


Patterns

by outsideth3box



Series: Harmonic Movement [1]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: 1000-3000 words, Disability, Earth, Established Relationship, M/M, Series, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-25
Updated: 2010-03-25
Packaged: 2017-10-08 07:51:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/74348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/outsideth3box/pseuds/outsideth3box
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A slice of life snippet, on Earth</p>
            </blockquote>





	Patterns

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [](http://darkhavens.livejournal.com/profile)[**darkhavens**](http://darkhavens.livejournal.com/) and [](http://shaddyr.livejournal.com/profile)[**shaddyr**](http://shaddyr.livejournal.com/) for audiencing. Any mistakes are mine. This fic is my turn on my and Shad's [](http://community.livejournal.com/fictictactoe/profile)[**fictictactoe**](http://community.livejournal.com/fictictactoe/) game, the prompt was, "Harmonic Movement."  
> Wordcount: 1,896  
> Warning: permanent disability of major character  
> Disclaimer: Not mine, no profit made, no infringement intended.  
> ETA: There is now backstory! [**Changes**](http://archiveofourown.org/works/74363)

Rodney stood at the sink and looked out the window into the back yard where John sat, throwing the ball for Diefenbaker. As he watched, John cocked his arm and let loose, sending the ball out past the flat, well-mowed back yard and into the tumbling rough beyond. Diefenbaker tore out after it, tail high and fur flying in the wind.

After a minute or two of rooting around, the dog bounded back through the tall, dead grass and trotted happily across the lawn to drop the ball in John's lap. John ruffled the dog's fur, picked up the ball, cocked his arm, and the pattern repeated.

Damn dog. Rodney had a love-hate relationship with it, but John adored the horrible thing. Of course, John didn't have to vacuum dog hair out of the computer towers. Not that he couldn't, but Rodney wasn't having any of that. He was the geek squad in this house, by god.

He did make John lint-roll the hair off Rodney's suit jacket when he needed it for a presentation. Or for VIP visitor days at the labs. Or sometimes just for John-torturing.

John deserved a bit of torturing in return for the aggravation he put Rodney through every day. Diefenbaker, indeed. John liked to tease Rodney by swearing that the dog was Canadian. Had to be, John said, "He's the most well-mannered dog I've ever known." And turned around and named him Diefenbaker after a pet wolf on a Canadian television show.

The resultant tooth gnashing Rodney did every time John called the dog's name was surely going to end with him needing implants by the time he was fifty.

Shooting a glance at the outdoor thermometer, Rodney clucked his tongue and hung the damp dishtowel on its hook. Grabbing John's jacket from the chair, where it absolutely wasn't supposed to be, he let himself out the back door and walked across the yard.

As soon as he got close enough he balled up the jacket and threw it at John's head. "Hey!" he called, while John wrestled the coat out of his face. "Squirrels are skating on the puddles in the driveway, and you're out here in just a shirt."

"Aaaw, mom!" John whined.

"Don't give me that! I also know you didn't apply any sunscreen, so when you develop a nice melanoma don't use that whine on me. Are you ready for dinner? I was thinking we could go pick up Chinese."

"You go. I don't feel like dealing with five o'clock traffic, I'll just wait here." John looked innocently away, making every effort to give the impression he was looking for Diefenbaker.

"Oh no! Someone has to hold the bags on the way back. Last time I went alone they tipped over and my car still smells like sweet and sour sauce." Rodney folded his arms and glared.

John tried, but he couldn't quite hold back the grin. "You could try not driving like a crazy person."

"Ha ha. Let's go, funny man, my blood sugar is dropping like a rock as we speak. That means you're driving." Rodney headed back to the house to lock the door while John handed off the ball to Diefenbaker to carry, checked that he had the dog's Service Vest in his chair's backpack, and took the side path that led to the garage.

The cherry red custom Silverado pickup was John's baby. Rodney had been utterly unsuccessful in his bid for something more sedate, so they were a two car family, Rodney preferring a nice quiet sedan that John wouldn't be caught dead in. Rodney happily maintained that the hand controls were beyond him and therefore he "couldn't" drive the big scary truck. John generally smirked and muttered about Ph.Ds in Mechanical Engineering under his breath.

While John stowed his chair and settled Dief in the back seat, Rodney called in their order, and reminded the fine folk at China Village about his allergies for the eleven thousandth time.

"She is so loud!" Rodney said, without a trace of irony. "I'd understand if there was no such thing as customer service where they're from, but they're from Ohio."

"If you're not nice she'll give us almond cookies."

Rodney looked horrified. "Who would put orange zest in a perfectly good almond cookie, I ask you?"

On the way back, Rodney ate three pot stickers out of the box "to ward off a hypoglycemic emergency," and waxed philosophic about the beauty of ground pork filling, while John grumbled about traffic and why couldn't Rodney fit the Silverado with Ancient tech so he could drive it with his mind.

During dinner Rodney harangued John about his inability to use chopsticks, but then fumbled his superiority by asking, "Do you have a basketball scrimmage tomorrow?"

John guffawed. "Scrimmage is football, dork. And yeah, we're meeting on court at three, why?"

"Yes, because the Nobel Committee cares so much whether I know what you call your little playdates," Rodney said with a disgusted glare. "I won't be home when you get home, I've got some important experiment results coming in tomorrow's databurst and I'm going to be busy until late."

"How late?"

"Way late."

"Hmm. Well, I think you should make it up to me. How's a shoulder rub later sound?"

"I'd love one, thanks."

"Double-dork!"

In the midst of the ensuing slap-fight, noodles tipped and silverware flying, Diefenbaker showed up to survey the commotion.

"Diefenbaker!" John called.

"Oh no! You can't sic the dog on me, he's a Service Dog, it's... it's against his religion!" Rodney ducked away, back to the fridge.

"I'm not," John laughed. He pointed to the fork on the floor. "Diefenbaker, look! Get it." The dog picked it up. "Bring it." Diefenbaker carried the fork to John. "Give it." The dog dropped the fork into his hand. John ruffed his ears and neck and told him what a good boy he was, then sent him off. "It's good for him to practice."

As John loaded the dishwasher, Rodney cleared the table and said, "I'm going to go work, while you work out," and he meandered away to his office.

Part of John's evening routine was heading to what used to be a spare bedroom but was now a small gym, and pumping through what Rodney called "a few circles of hell," while rocking out to Joan Jett on his iPod. He hadn't yet been able to talk Rodney into joining him, but he did notice a new pair of sweats in the hamper last time he did laundry, so maybe there was hope. He was an optimist.

Sweaty and grinning, a little buzzed from his workout, John knocked on Rodney's office door and waited for it to open.

"I'm going to go shower, want to meet me in the bedroom afterward for that shoulder rub?" He asked, with what passed for a sly wink.

"You!" Rodney wagged a pointed index finger. "You should not smell so good when you are all sweaty."

"I'll take that as a yes!" John called as he turned back down the hall.

When Rodney wandered out of his turn in the bathroom, scruffing his face with a towel, he saw that John was already in bed waiting, tossed the towel aside and crawled into bed, draping himself partly across his lover's torso. He buried his nose in John's chest hair and inhaled deeply, sighing in satisfaction.

"Still think I smell good now that I'm all showered up?"

"Mmmmmmm," Rodney moaned happily." I think you smell good aaalll the time."

He pushed himself up and captured John's mouth in a deep, wet kiss, trying and failing to hold back the groan building in his throat. Breathing harshly he pulled back and John lifted his head and laid a line of light nibbles down the side of Rodney's neck, tilting his head to receive the same treatment in return.

Rodney licked and nipped, soothing the bites with kisses, up and down John's neck until John was panting. Then he leaned in and took his earlobe gently in his teeth, sucking tenderly.

"I love you." He whispered into John's ear. "I love you so damn much." He laved John's ear and the skin surrounding it, blowing on the damp patches and scraping slightly with his teeth, watching goosebumps form and retreat.

John's arms were wrapped around him, hands rubbing and kneading the muscles of his neck and shoulders, warming and loosening them and leaving Rodney liquid in his wake. Then John drew his nails lightly down Rodney's back and grinned as the man arched into the sensation, ah-ing loudly. He did it again and watched Rodney's eyes fall shut in bliss.

Bringing their mouths together again, Rodney let his tongue press against John's, tangled them together, licking and exploring every crevice, every millimeter. The clash of teeth lent a fierceness to the moment that had them grabbing at each other's arms, shoulders, faces. Hands touched and stroked, buried themselves in soft hair. Kisses brushed against every inch of skin, calloused fingertips and soft lips, eyelids and cheeks.

Rodney scooted down and licked a path from the hollow of John's throat to his nipple, lapped over the pink nub and drew back, watching it crinkle and bud, darkening. He sucked it into his mouth and flicked his tongue back and forth rapidly, every few seconds laying his tongue flat against it soothingly and then sucking, gently at first and then more strongly, listening to John's heavy breaths and low whispers, "Oh yes, that's good, just like that..."

Switching to the other side he did it all again, scraped lightly with his teeth and watched it pucker up, licked and sucked and used his hand on the neglected one, fingers like a reverse xylophone, thwapthwapthwapthwap across the tip, back and forth, back and forth and John writhed beneath him.

John cupped Rodney's face in his palms and pulled him up, kissed him softly, nibbling on his lips, licking a soothing warm stripe along behind the bites, slid his hand around to the back of Rodney's head and held him in place, kissing and licking, nipping and sucking at his soft, swollen lips.

Reaching his hand down between them, John grasped Rodney's hard cock and stroked it, smearing precome the length of the shaft.

Rodney moaned, "Oh god, John it's not... not gonna take much..."

John continued stroking, returned to kissing Rodney's mouth, hot breath puffing over their faces. He ran his hand down Rodney's back, spread it over the sweaty muscles, feeling them tighten, feeling Rodney's body stiffen, and arch, and come.

"Yeah, that's it, come for me, come on," John whispered, flushed and panting. "So good."

With a whuff, Rodney collapsed onto his side and lay while he caught his breath, arm resting across John's chest. "Wow."

"Yeah, definitely."

After rolling out of bed and ambling to the bathroom for a damp washcloth, Rodney came back and cleaned them both up. He tossed the used cloth in the general direction of the hamper before snuggling up to John and letting loose a huge yawn.

John grinned and smacked a kiss to Rodney's forehead.

"Good night." Rodney mumbled into his shoulder.

Tightening his arm, John buried his nose in Rodney's hair. "Yeah."

His eyes fell shut and he was just drifting gently away, when Rodney whispered, "You still smell good."


End file.
